


The Morning Routine

by EbilChameleon



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Kinda?, M/M, Masterbation, Morning Routine, Morning time, Seriously who did it?, Voyeurism, Who threw in that ball of fluff at the end?, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbilChameleon/pseuds/EbilChameleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull loves watching Dorian pretty himself up</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning Routine

**Author's Note:**

> All the positive feedback from my last post really inspired me to write something new, so thanks to everyone who contributed to that!
> 
> This one is more tame but I feel there's a bit more depth (though still not as much as I'd like to really explore). I may have also made it a thing for Qunari to purr (and where the hell that came from I have NO idea). Please forgive me and my weird fetishes. Blame creative freedom.
> 
> No beta so please be kind and try to ignore any mistakes, many apologies in advance!
> 
> Please enjoy and happy reading!

Bull didn't always wake second, but most mornings he enjoyed when he did.

At the beginning of this…whatever this was he had going with Dorian (relationship? The word hadn't ever been spoken between them and he fought hard against ever thinking it lest Cole was poking around in his mind and mentioned the word in front of Dorian. That was a confrontation that could go many ways and he’d rather avoid it completely), the young ‘Vint would often be gone just before dawn, sneaking quietly about and gathering his clothes and rushing out when he believed Bull to be sound asleep. Bull hadn't ever been pegged with any sort of disappointment and had, in the beginning, felt a bit relieved when Dorian would slink out without a word. It was easy, it was simple and clean, it kept them free of any ties being formed.

Months into their nightly meetings, Dorian would very occasionally stay the entirety of the night, sleeping till morning and waking beside Bull. This was a sight to behold and Bull fondly remembered the very first time waking to Dorian still in bed with him; the mage had been drooling ever so slightly on his bicep where his face lay, nestled into Bull’s side. His hair and mustache were rumpled and askew, leftover kohl smudged around his eyes, and love bites dusted his collar bones. It was Dorian in the raw, un-pampered, naked as the day he was born, and positively breathtakingly beautiful.

Of course Dorian woke in a huff, cheeks tainted red with what Bull guessed to be embarrassment upon being seen in such a state, fluttering around the room like a nervous wife learning of a surprise visit from her in-laws. Bull had tried to placate the ‘Vint, but Dorian ignored all words Bull spoke, dressed quickly and with a curt, “Excuse me,” he’d left. Bull laughed about it just after but was from then on compelled to get Dorian comfortable with being seen without all the face powder and glitter.

His goal had been achieved, though it took a good amount of time. It was nearly a year after they’d first gotten together (and wasn't that, he thought, telling that this was definitely _something_ ) and Bull was now all too familiar with waking up to a drooling mage on his chest. No longer were the mornings waking without Dorian about the mage wanting to leave out of habit or caution to refrain from being discovered, but instead it was simply a routine.

Bull loved watching Dorian’s morning routine.

He woke on this morning to the sky just on the cusp of turning color with the rising of the sun. It was still dark out, yet songbirds were filling the air with their tunes and the stars were faded from the coming light. The first sign that Dorian was gone was the cool, empty space beside him, the blanket thoughtfully tucked to Bull’s side which always made him smile just a bit. For all of his seemingly selfish tendencies, Dorian was thoughtful in small, meaningful ways.

His second indication were the few lit candles, and with the provided light, Bull glanced to the vanity across from the bed that Dorian insisted was brought into Bull’s room. There were multiple jars and vials containing fancy things that Bull didn't give a nug’s rear end about, yet one thing in particular was missing: Dorian’s basket of bathing supplies. The low, pleased growl that sounded in his throat was completely involuntary and as Bull stretched and lounged back against the headboard, his half-hard cock gave an interested twitch.

He couldn't quite explain it, but there was simply something arousing about Dorian fresh from the baths. The mage enjoyed very early baths, namely because no one else occupied the public place so early in the morning, and also (Bull thought it both absurdly ridiculous and downright adorable) because Dorian would only adorn a bathrobe, comfortable cotton trousers, and house slippers to and from the bathing room and curse the day should _anyone_ catch sight of an Altus like Dorian is less than his usual showy and fashionable getup.

It took Dorian about fifteen minutes to return to the room, entering with hasty movements, the door banging open then being closed with more force than necessary. He looked a bit flustered, hardly anywhere near his normal groomed appearance, and he glared at the door for a moment before glancing to the bed. His eyes narrowed further at the Iron Bull before he let out a sigh. “Figures you’d be awake.”

“Did one of the servants almost catch you? The shame if they did,” Bull teased with a grin, “You haven’t even powdered your nose yet. It’d be a downright _scandal._ ” He chuckled when Dorian, looking like a peacock whose feathers had just been ruffled, finally relaxed enough to smile with amusement.

“I _do_ have an image to uphold, you know. So excuse me while I attend to it.”

Bull settled further, folding one arm behind his head while the other hand rested low on his stomach. Fresh from his bath, Dorian always carried the intoxicating scent of jasmine and sandalwood. Bull inhaled deeply, the scent warming his entire body and sending his blood into a frenzy. After so many of these mornings, he wasn’t able to so much as scent a jasmine flower on the wind without getting hard. Another growl sounded from his throat and clearly it was loud enough that Dorian glanced over his shoulder from his place at the vanity. He caught Bull’s eye watching him with interest and, like all other mornings when he knew Bull was watching, he smirked and jutted a hip to the side as he shuffled his needed jars about.

The first time Dorian went through his routine Bull had only been around for part of it. He’d never taken interest in Dorian’s beauty regimen, not caring so much about what Dorian did, just the ending results that he could see during the day. The second and third and fourth times he’d given it little attention and went about suiting up for the day. Two months after Dorian had begun using Bull’s room as his own did he finally lounge lazily in bed and watched Dorian from start to finish. At the time Dorian paid him no mind but eventually, when he noticed Bull watching, did he start to put on a show.

Now it was a show anytime Bull watched and Dorian, he knew, soaked up every single bit of the attention like a sponge. Dorian’s head was turned down, his hands moving in front of him and Bull watched, knowing the tie to that robe was being undone. He settled down, legs spreading just a bit and, for now, he kept his hands still and eye focused. The robe was pulled slowly over Dorian’s shoulders, giving Bull a peek at the tanned skin. With a flick of the wrist, Dorian lit the wall sconce above the vanity and Bull licked his lips when that skin was given a golden glow in the firelight. The robe then fell further, slowly falling over Dorian’s arms, somehow flowing like silk despite being cotton. That was a kind of magic unique to Dorian, Bull learned; he could make even the shabbiest of fabrics look like the finest and most expensive.

A hum of approval left Bull’s mouth when Dorian’s bare back was presented; all golden skin and surprisingly broad shoulders for a high-class mage. Dorian’s figure had surprised Bull upon first glancing at the young ‘Vint naked. He’d honestly been expecting very little muscle and a skinny figure hidden beneath the voluminous robes, yet Dorian was filled out in the right places with toned arms, sturdy pectorals and visible abs to boot. It wasn't what he expected from a snooty mage who hadn't hefted a sword a day in his life and who, Bull suspected, had never lifted a finger towards manual labor ever. The muscles, Bull appreciated, but Dorian was still soft with a pinchable layer of fat over his flanks and the insides of his thighs that made Bull’s mouth water.

So lost in his thoughts, he’d just barely come back to himself to see Dorian had toed off the slippers and was bending over, further than necessary, and sliding his trousers down his legs and slipping his feet from them. Bull swallowed at the sight, forgetting to breathe momentarily as he stared at that round, pert ass poised in the air, clearly for his enjoyment. Fondly he remembered when Dorian had pulled this stunt once before which ended with Bull bending him over the vanity and fucking him speechless while they stared at each other in the mirror. Now that, he was certain, contended in his top five hottest fuckings of all time.  

“I thought you were leaving with the Inquisitor today?” Dorian spoke, back still to Bull and the sound of a jar opening, followed by the renewed scent of jasmine, this time mingling with something fruity, filled the room and Bull’s cock was fully hard and wanting. His hand dipped below the blanket, not yet touching himself but his fingertips were lightly skimming down around his balls.

“We’re leaving in the early afternoon, he’s got briefings or some crap like that beforehand.” Bull kept his voice steady, easy enough with all the training he’s gone through. Sometimes, when he was a bit less focused, he didn't mind the casual conversation but other times he preferred to just silently watch, especially now since this was his favorite part of Dorian’s routine.

Bull was certain Dorian would rush this when he was alone and not being watched, given that he was completely naked and if there was anything Dorian loathed most, it was the cold. It seemed he planned on indulging Bull though, as there was no hurry when he dipped his fingers into the jar of sweetly scented cream. There was a time when Bull questioned Dorian through each and every step he took of the routine and Dorian, much to Bull’s surprise, answered all of his questions thoroughly and without a single moment of annoyance. In fact, he had seemed to enjoy that Bull was taking interest regardless of not knowing whether Bull was genuinely interested or not. _What’s that stuff for?_ Bull had asked as Dorian had lathered one arm with the cream before rubbing it in. _Keeps the skin hydrated and smooth. I swear there’s nothing worse than cracked and flaky skin. The itching is absolute torture._

Bull absently touched around the base of one horn with the hand behind his head. The itching _was_ quite awful.

What Bull loved was that Dorian was so mindful during this. He didn't skip a single part of his body with the cream, spending time rubbing it down each arm, across his chest and stomach, between his legs (which had Bull licking his lips as he watched) and then taking what seemed a painstakingly long amount of time (in Bull’s opinion) on his hands and each individual finger. Each leg would then get propped up on the small stool before the vanity, one at a time and rubbed down from thigh to toes. Once Bull was allowed to rub the stuff into Dorian’s back. Dorian had begrudgingly agreed when Bull offered, saying, with a weak bite, “At the very least, your calloused hands should benefit from it too.”

Dorian’s movements during the entire process were slow and drawn out and he seemed to know exactly how to angle his body so Bull would be able to see exactly what Dorian was doing. The mage was so astonishingly gorgeous during this, body a shadowed silhouette, movements graceful and always with purpose to exhibit his body in the most appealing of ways. Without a doubt it was erotic but beyond that, Bull was able to find the romanticism within the act, realizing at one point that he was being privileged with being allowed to watch Dorian in such a private moment. It couldn't be any clearer what this was: a man watching his naked lover touch himself.

Unknowingly he’d started palming his dick, just light movements over his sensitive flesh. His breathing was still normal, his body trained to keep calm despite his heart thudding hard in his chest. He kept hearing something as well, sounding almost like a low hum. Dorian threw a smirk to him over his shoulder, one hand finishing rubbing the cream into his ass cheek and his head shook subtly. Bull kept his face still even when he realized that the hum was coming from him and Dorian could obviously hear it. He felt the vibrations in his chest now that he realized he’d started purring; an involuntary reaction all Qunari had when they found contended pleasure. Dorian had laughed himself silly the first time Bull purred around him and Bull had endured many cat references, but eventually Dorian admitted to finding the purr to be arousing.

Finished with cream, Dorian sealed the jar and set it back on the vanity. He reached up towards the ceiling in a stretch, a deliberate tease if Bull had ever seen one, and the action was very much appreciated. The cream hadn't fully soaked in and Dorian’s skin was left with a glossy, shimmering glow that reminded Bull of when the mage’s body would shine with sweat whenever they had sex. He licked his lips once more, swallowing and applied more pressure to his cock. He breathed out a sigh at the harder touch and his eye fluttered a moment before refocusing on Dorian who was now folding his discarded bathing clothes before setting them aside and gathering his much more fashionably appropriate attire from the dresser. As he dressed, Dorian remained facing Bull, eyes flicking up from time to time, going between Bull’s face and the hand moving not so subtly beneath the blanket. There was no mistaking what Bull was doing and he was certain Dorian, in this instance, took the action as a compliment. It was clear to see he was fighting off a genuinely happy smile as he pulled up and laced his trousers.

“You’ll be gone a few weeks won’t you?” Dorian asked, picking up the conversation as though no time had spanned from where they left off.

“Suppose so,” Bull replied. His eyes watched Dorian’s movements carefully as he did each belt and buckle for his leather top. Dorian always worked from the bottom up and Bull already knew which strap was for use and which was for show. “The Western Approach isn't exactly an afternoon walk away.”

“Lovely,” Dorian sighed, “the commander will be a sack of rapturous joy. I almost pity his troops. And he’ll be an absolutely _dreadful_ chess partner.” There was the hint of a pout on Dorian’s face and Bull rolled his eye.

“You’re worried over Cullen fussing because the boss is going to be gone?” Bull’s hand slowed its movement beneath the blanket but didn't stop, couldn't when Dorian’s hip was cocked at such an angle.

Dorian raised a single brow and stared Bull down. “Should there be something else I should worry about?” It was a challenge for Bull to say something but he knew it was also an opportunity. Words waiting to be spilled cluttered his throat and he swallowed them back down and said nothing.

“In any case, I’ll have to fill your position for drinking with your company. They’re always so lost without their mother hen to oversee them in the tavern,” Dorian teased and sat himself on the stool before the vanity. Bull shifted on the bed so he was able to watch Dorian through the mirror. Though there wasn't the same romanticism during this part of the routine as when Dorian was rubbing his naked body, Bull took interest instead to observe Dorian’s skill in what he liked to think was the ‘fine tuning’ part of the routine. There is where all the subtle touches were done that, individually, were so easy to overlook but brought Dorian’s entire look together as a whole.

It always stared with his hair, combed and gelled into submission, parts that looked finished always gone over again and again, Dorian’s fingers moving through the gelled spikes, moving each piece with practiced precision until, finally, Dorian stopped and turned his head this way and that in the mirror until he was satisfied. “You’d make a pretty weak replacement, I’d think. You don’t hold your liquor well.” Some days it would take what seemed like hours for Dorian to get his hair just right and others it was done with such an efficient flourish that it was obvious the ‘Vint’s level of nitpickiness varied from day to day.

Dorian made a noise and opened a new jar, dabbing some wax on his mustache before smoothing it out with a fine-toothed comb. “And despite that fact, there is no argument to be had about me being far nicer to look at, evidently. I think your children would enjoy the change of scenery.” Dorian wrapped the ends of his mustache about his fingers, twirling just so and letting the pieces fall away, the wax holding them in place. He glanced to Bull through the mirror when he laughed at Dorian’s comment.

Their banter ended there for the moment and Bull took to just watching Dorian again though this time there was a smile on his face he just couldn't shake away. Now it was the finishing touches Dorian had left, starting with a light powder across his face (‘ _True tragedy is a shiny nose glaring at everyone in broad daylight, honestly’)_. Bull loved the view of Dorian’s jawline whenever he lifted his face to powder down his neck. Dorian had such a strongly set jaw, not broad but not delicate, just slender enough to pass as androgynous. That bared neck made Bull want to sink his teeth in, mark every bit of the unblemished skin. He was aware, once again, of his purring when the noise grew louder. Dorian was watching him again, through the mirror and Bull deliberately shifted his hips. He groaned lowly and grinned when Dorian quickly looked away with a determined frown.

His eyes were next, the lids getting a very light dusting of shimmer dust, and then they were ringed with a thin line of kohl. Bull never quite understood the use of the kohl until he’d seen Dorian both with and without it. Dorian’s eyes were a pale gold in color, like white wine, and against his darker skin tone they were noticeable enough. Yet with the deep charcoal color ringing Dorian’s eyes his irises were made to look lighter, like pale moonlight, and they were easily the first thing noticeable when looking at Dorian.

Finally, a good thirty minutes from when he entered the room, Dorian put on his last touch of the routine (a light coating of beeswax and honey to his lips) and he was presentable to the rest of Skyhold. After a thorough examine in the mirror, which he must have deemed himself acceptable, Dorian stood from the vanity and turned, eyeing Bull for a moment before sauntering to the bed. He sat close to Bull’s side, eyes roaming the expansive torso and his pupils, Bull noticed quickly, were dilated with arousal. A soft, delicate hand was brought up and splayed over his sternum before drifting to the left a bit, rubbing circles against Bull’s pectoral. They both watched that hand, making small and light movements. Bull let out a sharp breath when a finger rubbed his nipple and Dorian paused briefly before paying the area more attention.

“You won’t do anything recklessly stupid while you’re gone, right?” Dorian’s words were quiet and hesitant, like he didn't want to say them yet they had been voiced regardless.

Bull lifted a hand to Dorian’s face and brushed the backs of his fingers along Dorian’s jaw. He was the pinnacle of human beauty and while the makeup was done to highlight what was already there, Bull believed Dorian to be exceptionally radiant without it. He was about to open his mouth to answer when Dorian’s hand snuck beneath the blanket and took his cock in hand, gripping firmly and stroking Bull’s length. Bull hissed and his hips bucked into Dorian’s grasp. Dorian looked smug and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Bull’s.

Bull’s hand on Dorian’s jaw moved to cup the back of his neck while his other hand moved from beneath the blanket to wrap around Dorian’s front and squeeze the mage’s hip encouragingly. The purring in his chest stopped to give way to the low growls Bull made and he kept thrusting his hips up into Dorian’s grip. “You gonna miss me?” Bull asked. He didn't expect an answer, and he didn't get one, not vocal at least. The noise that tumbled from Dorian’s lips sounded faintly like a whimper. His grip on Bull’s cock tightened and his other arm moved over Bull’s shoulder to pull him close. His shifted his face up just a bit and rubbed the tip of his nose gently against Bull’s. “I’m gonna miss you, you damned fucking gorgeous tease. _Fuck._ ” Bull felt that hot tug in his lower belly, the way his balls drew up and his legs tensed as he came, back arching just slightly off the bed as he spilled himself over Dorian’s hand and his stomach. “Fuck,” he breathed again and fell against the bed with a satisfied groan. With both hands he grabbed Dorian’s face and kissed the man harshly, lips mashing together. It was sloppy and wet, hot and almost desperate and it was everything that would go unspoken to each other.

“Idiot,” Dorian said softly when they parted. He bumped his forehead to Bull’s once more and kissed him much more gently before he straightened up, touching his bottom lip thoughtfully. He said, with an affectionate pat to Bull’s cheek, “Just come back in one piece. I rather do prefer all of you intact.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and such are very much appreciated! I do hope everyone enjoyed. I'm hoping to start a longer chapter story with my Inquisitor (the one VERY briefly mentioned here) and more Adoribull and DA2 elements (aka characters yay).


End file.
